


flames from secret fireplaces

by orphan_account



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Youtube RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Kinda, M/M, Sex, go read adorabloodthirstykitty's seafoam first, listen its sad and gay and full of metaphors, well its more lovers to relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9712997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It went against all common sense, but he clung to that fire with all his might, sucked in smoke and ash until his mouth was coated with the taste of them, the taste of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdorabloodthirstyKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Seafoam](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289457) by [AdorabloodthirstyKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty). 



> Okay so this is basically Jack's POV from the actual work of art called 'seafoam' by Adorabloodthirstykitty who agreed to let me write the following piece of pretentious and weepy trash, lmao
> 
> i tried my best because i love (LOVE) fics like seafoam that use so many like connotations to elements and whatnot and idk i just wanted to write this, so i really hope you like it! comments and criticisms are much appreciated!!!

Jack’s never liked the cold.

As a child running home from school, teeth chattering and hair wet from the rain, as a teenager glaring at gloomy grey clouds blocking even the most stubborn rays of sun, and even now, as an adult who really should be used to it, after twenty-some years of living in Ireland. The cold is a bitter, irritating thing, constantly present; constantly biting at his skin and making his fingers feel numb.

At least, until he met Mark.

With warm brown eyes that shine with playful mischief and charcoal hair that falls into his face when he looks down to try and hide a smile, Mark was Jack’s light. A fire both roaring and gentle, chasing away the chill and wrapping around him in smoke that filled his lungs and in flames that scalded his skin. Jack welcomed them, though. It went against all common sense, but he clung to that fire with all his might, sucked in smoke and ash until his mouth was coated with the taste of them, the taste of him.

Mark was Jack’s downfall, both the fire burning his skin and the warmth that filled his chest, slowly but surely killing him.

And although he felt the heat, although it singed the tip of his fingers like a child getting too close to a candle, he didn’t jump back. Because Mark came every time Jack called to him, never shied away, and Jack needed his light, his warmth, his touch. So he walked closer to the fire, no matter how much it burned, no matter what it did to Jack’s fragile paper heart.

So when Mark’s shoulder brushes against his in the hall of their hotel, Jack doesn’t even flinch. His hand finds Mark’s easily, and his lips form words that he knows will kindle that fire he needs, that fire he loves. And Mark follows, dark eyes bright with an emotion Jack can’t place, and when he kisses Jack he tastes like toasted marshmallows and home, burning away their surroundings until all Jack can feel is warm, tan skin under his fingers and soft lips moving against his own. Jack feels the heat travel up to his face as he pulls away, colouring his cheeks and pulling at the corners of his lips, and he moves automatically, unlocking his hotel room and pulling Mark close again, revelling in the gasp that leaves his lips as he slides a hand under his shirt and pushes the door closed behind them.

It isn't the first time they've been drawn together like this, fitting together like puzzle pieces in the dark and quiet of a hotel room. It isn't the first time Mark’s hands have found Jack’s hips, leaving burn marks on his skin as his teeth nip at Jack’s lower lip. It is by no means the first time, and Jack prays it won't be the last, no matter how much it burns. No matter how many times his stupid heart flips and sinks, fluttering like a paper plane caught in the wind only to fall to the cold ground when he leaves again, the fire Jack loves so much burning out in the middle of the night and leaving him shivering. No matter how much it hurts to pretend this has never happened, he does it again and again, drinking in the feeling of Mark’s hands roaming over his skin, carelessly brushing away all of Jack’s defences and leaving him gasping for air in a smoke filled room.

Jack pulls back with hands laid flat against Mark's abdomen, the backs of his knees bumping the mattress as he finds Mark’s eyes with his own, the only light those of the city outside and that of the man in front of him. Mark pauses, forehead pressed to Jack's as his eyes flicker to the window, taking in the view. Jack leans forward, feels him swallow as their lips brush again, and then his eyes focus back on him, staring right through him and burning him from the inside out.

"If you don't want to do this, we don’t have to," Jack murmurs, because as much as he needs this warmth, he understands if the fire wants to burn free, wants to spread into other hotel rooms, find other people to bring light to. Brown eyes are searching, and there’s a hesitance there that Jack really doesn’t want to look into as Mark’s breath stutters, but then his shoulders relax, and he shakes his head.

The flames rush through Jack then, filling him with relief as Mark captures his lips with his own, and his hands find the back of Mark’s neck, pulling him as close as he dares, hoping not for the first time, that this is clear enough of a message. Mark presses his lips more firmly to Jack's, tilting his head and catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Jack wonders if he’d be able to let him go if he wasn’t so honest, so passionate and bright that it leaves him wondering why he let Jack into his life, why he let someone as small and cold and dull as he is touch his skin and kiss those saving lips. He wonders if this whole mess would hurt less if Mark wasn't so generous, but pushes the thought away, unwilling to let the worries that plague him so often stifle the flames that lick so sweetly at his skin. Mark wraps Jack up in his arms and deepens the kiss, and Jack lets himself fall back, pulling Mark with him as they plummet to the freshly-washed sheets below.

His hands begin their trek over the curves of Mark’s body, fingers carding through black hair and over the dip in the center of his back, brushing lightly over his skin as his lips steal as many kisses as they can. Mark holds him too tight but not nearly tight enough, handling him like glass even as he reduces Jack to ashes, and every part of Jack’s charred body screams for closer proximity, needing their bodies flush with no space between. If Jack could feel this always, Mark’s skin against his, the heat of his lips and the feel of his hair in his fingers, he would die happily. He would want nothing more than Mark, his smile and his laugh and the way he makes Jack feel safe even as he rips his heart out of his chest with gentle touches and caresses. He pushes the thought back hard, wishing his mind would shut off and give him this moment, these rare minutes just to be with Mark with nothing holding them back. Jack pulls at the hair at the back of Mark’s head, tight enough to gain control but not enough to hurt, and Mark's head is pulled back with a low groan falling from his lips.

"I missed yeh so much today," Jack murmurs against his throat, because he’s tired of holding back these simple truths. Mark’s hands tighten on his hips, and Jack smiles sadly into his skin, pretending it’s a reaction to his words instead of to the feeling of Jack’s lips brushing the sensitive parts of his neck.

"I missed you, too," Mark breathes out then, and Jack’s heart swells with equal part joy and pain, because _he missed him too_ but not in the same way, never in the same way. Mark misses Jack like a friend and a lover, and Jack misses Mark like he’s the other half of his soul. Mark drags his fingers up Jack’s sides then, rucking up his t-shirt and sending a shiver down Jack’s spine as clever fingers tease his skin in all the right places. Jack kisses his neck more softly, slowly travelling over the warm skin, trying to savour the moment. Mark’s hand come up to cup either side of Jack’s face, and he pulls away enough to meet his eyes as rough thumbs run over his cheekbones, so achingly gentle that Jack can’t help his soft smile, staring up at him and trying to remember everything he sees, from the sharpness of his jaw to the plumpness of his lips.  Those beautiful brown eyes shine a little brighter, but Jack doesn't have the time to analyse what that means because Mark kisses him again, soft and reverent. He takes his time pulling away, eyes fluttering open slowly, and Jack’s smiling wider, eyes trained on Mark’s soft gaze and pretending it means what he wants it to mean. He moves his hand from soft black locks to frame Mark’s face, his thumb running along the stubble beside his mouth, pink and kiss-bruised.

Mark remains still, leaning slightly into Jack’s touch and meeting his eyes, though Jack can see the embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"What?" he finally asks, voice a whisper in the breath of space between their lips. Jack smiles a little wider, gently pressing his thumb into the corner of Mark’s mouth.

"Just happy to be with you," he replies, because it’s easier to say only part of the truth. It’s easier to just say this, instead of all the thoughts and feelings that crash through him like a tidal wave every time he looks Mark in the eye.

"Me too." Mark stares at him, eyes reminding Jack of molten chocolate and quiet evenings in front of a fireplace, evenings he’s never had but can see so clearly reflected in dark brown irises. He wants to stare for longer, wants to reach out and touch the fire, wants to smell the burning wood and smoke, but Mark kisses him then, soft and slow, and his eyes flutter shut, taking the happy scene with them.

"While I'd be more than happy to continue this sap-fest," Mark says, and Jack laughs quietly, comforted by how seamlessly Mark can weave humour into their situation, replacing nervousness and the cold by happiness and warm campfires, "I think you brought me here for something else? Possibly involving less clothing?" he asks, hands skating down to toy with the pale sliver of exposed flesh sitting just above Jack's waistband and making his breath catch in his throat.

"Possibly," Jack smirks, and his hands drift slowly to the bottom of Mark’s shirt, pausing as he waits for Mark to answer his silent question. And he does so with a smile and a kiss, sitting back on his heels to pull the shirt off easily as he straddles Jack’s hips like he belongs there. Jack thinks he does. He fumbles with his own shirt, pulling it up and off impatiently before hauling Mark back down to taste his lips again.

Mark relaxes against him as Jack lets his hands roam free, stroking the skin and pulling his chest flush with his own as he kisses him, and he’s losing himself too much, he can feel it. His nails rake through Mark’s hair, making him gasp, and Jack wants so desperately to tell him, to let the words spill from his mouth like a river breaking a dam, but water and fire don’t mix. He swallows them back down between deep kisses and Mark’s quiet moans, clutching at him like a lifeline as the flames grow from small teasing flickers to a roaring and all-encompassing wildfire.

He focuses on this fire as Mark pulls off his skinny jeans, mapping his body with feather-light kisses that somehow seem to burn even hotter, branding his skin. Mark takes a deep breath, and Jack can’t see his face from here but in a strange way he’s glad - it means Mark can’t see the way his lower lip quivers and his hands shake as the last remaining clothes are discarded, skin meeting skin in slow, steady friction.

Jack sucks in a quiet breath, moving against Mark and fisting the hair at the back of his head. Mark shudders, and then his head tilts up and neither of them can hide from each other anymore.

His cheeks are a deep red, dark eyes blown wide and lips wet and kiss-swollen. Jack tugs at his hair and Mark catches it, moving to kiss his lips and hold him tighter, but even then it feels like the earth is swallowing Jack whole.

Because he wants so desperately for this to last, wants so desperately to have a fireplace of his own where they could sit and share kisses that are secret for completely different reasons, wants Mark to share a bed with him for more than a few stolen hours so that he could kiss him awake in the morning. He doesn’t want him to leave, doesn’t want the chill to come back, numbing his skin and making his smile feel stretched and painful as they put on an act for those around them, and act that they’ve perfected from a show Jack cannot fucking stand. His heart aches with the knowledge that tomorrow brings breakfast alone and a world of grey clouds and cold conversations, where Mark hides the fire someplace Jack can’t reach. Mark is tense against him, his lips tickling Jack’s skin as his breath comes in shaky huffs, and Jack kisses his forehead, eyes finding his and hoping, always hoping, that Mark will tell him what he’s really thinking. Instead, Mark shakes his head, a barely perceptible movement that Jack almost misses and immediately wants to address. He opens his mouth to ask, but Mark kisses him then, stealing his words and his breath from him like he knows that Jack’s all his.

Their kisses become shorter and hungrier, teeth biting lips pink and breaths mingling. Eventually Mark pulls back, kissing Jack fiercely before leaning up to the bedside table, Jack’s toiletries bag sitting beside the lamp in anticipation of this exact moment. Jack watches him fumble, and then he finds the small tube he’s looking for, popping the cap and pouring some of its contents over his fingers, making Jack’s stomach flutter with excitement.

Jack spreads his legs a little, waiting for the first press of fingers, and he’s caught off guard when Mark wraps a hand around him first, pulling a surprised moan from his lips at the friction. Jack’s head tips back, his nails scratching at Mark’s back as he loses himself in the feeling and tries to ignore the painful flutter of his heart.

Mark doesn’t slow, playing with him with those expert fingers, and Jack calls his name in warning, wanting this moment to last as long as they can handle it. Mark’s hand stills, letting Jack breathe, and when Jack opens his eyes to look at him he finds fond brown eyes already trained on him, staring at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. His breath catches in his throat, and Jack reaches out to cup Mark’s cheek, smiling reassuringly, hoping his eyes are clear enough.

_What’s wrong? Please tell me. Please let me help._

Mark’s eyes flicker to Jack’s mouth, and he flicks his wrist in answer, making Jack’s mouth fall open and a moan spill out into the silence of the room. Eventually Mark moves his hand away, grabbing the bottle and pouring more onto his fingers, eyes still fixed on Jack’s face like he’s searching for something. He keeps his eyes locked with Jack’s as he pushes the first finger in, and Jack wants to hold his gaze but he can’t. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and his voice sounds so loud in his ears as he moans again, tipping his head back.

His hands scrabble for purchase as Mark works at him, the slow press of his fingers spreading him open so easily, making him gasp and whine like it’s nothing as Jack digs his nails into Mark’s skin. His hips rock towards him of their own accord, demanding more as he tugs Mark closer. Warm lips slide down the side of Jack’s neck, and Mark’s fingers curl against the bundle of nerves deep inside him, making him cry out.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to be reduced to a breathy, quivering mess, and Mark smiles this satisfied smile as he pulls his fingers out, kissing him sweetly as he reaches for a condom and the discarded bottle, making quick work of pulling it on and spreading the substance over himself. He pauses then, poised at Jack’s entrance as he waits for Jack to catch his breath, waits for a sign. Jack smiles up at him, trying to catch his breath and scooting closer as Mark rests his weight on the hands, boxing him in. Jack’s hands move to Mark’s arms, clutching at him as he tries to relax, and he whines quietly as Mark pushes himself in, slow and soft and gentle, always gentle. His head falls forward when he’s completely sheathed inside of him, and Jack can smell the sweet scent of his shampoo. It reminds him of autumn, and there it is again, their secret little fireplace, warm and safe and perfect.

Jack moves his hips, gasping at the fullness of it, and Mark’s skin is so achingly warm against his own. Mark starts a rhythm then, deep and slow, tucking his face into the spot where Jack’s neck meets his shoulder. Jack lets his eyes fall shut, focusing on the move of Mark’s hips, the smell of his hair, the flames wrapping around them and pulling them closer. He feels Mark shake as he quietly moans his name, wanting him closer, and God, it hurts so much to know that he’s going to have to let this go again.

But then Mark’s shoulders jerk, and Jack can hear it, can hear the pained, quiet breaths he recognizes all too well, so similar to his own. His hand moves automatically, finding Mark’s chin and pushing his head up, blue eyes meeting teary brown, and suddenly Jack’s paper heart feels like fire as well.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, because he has to know. He has to know he’s not imagining this, that the emotion he sees reflected in the flames isn’t a trick of light. Mark shudders at his words, and another sob wracks through him, painful and stuttering, and the fire goes out, leaving them in the dark. Gently, Jack reaches out, shaking fingers finding Mark’s face and wiping salty tears away.

“Ssh, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks again, quiet and patient despite his heart hammering in his chest, fear and hope struggling to overcome one another.

Mark swallows, pulling back, and brown eyes are guarded as they meet Jack’s. They stare at each other for a while, and maybe it’s because they can both see their feelings reflected back at one another, but Mark’s shoulders slump, and Jack can see his glass walls shatter.

"I'm in love with you, Jack. I have been for a while. I didn't want to ruin what we have or make you uncomfortable, so I tried to hide it. It's just-" he stops, drawing in a shaky breath as tears begin to well up again, and Jack can’t breathe past the sudden lump in his throat as he stares at the man in front of him.

"It's been getting harder and harder to hide. I just want to hold onto you and never let go, and kiss you awake in the mornings, and hold onto you at night. I want to do all of those sappy, romantic things couples do and I want to tell you how much I love you every day for the rest of my life. And I know how sudden this all is, I understand if you want to stop seeing each other like this or if you don't want to see me for a while, or at all. I won't hold it against you," Mark murmurs into Jack’s chest, his lips brushing Jack’s skin. He doesn’t look up and Jack can’t move, shock freezing his senses as his mind runs through Mark’s words over and over again. So they stay like that, Jack’s hands on Mark's back and in his hair, petting quietly, and Mark with head bowed, clutching at him like he’s afraid Jack will push him away.

Jack can’t handle him thinking that though, so sooner than he really feels ready to he’s tilting Mark’s chin up with his fingers, and he’s so scared and so happy and so lost and so found that he think he might cry. He leans down to kiss him instead, soft and chaste, swallowing Mark’s quiet noise of disbelief.

"Mark, yeh have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that,” Jack hears himself say, quiet and awestruck, and Mark stares at him, eyes wide and confused and guarded. Jack kisses his doubt away, and Mark’s lips taste of salt water and smoke; a bonfire on a beach.

"I was so fuckin afraid you didn't feel the same," he murmurs, lips brushing against Mark's with every word before leaning back in for another kiss.

"I thought that I'd never be so fuckin lucky to have you like this." Another kiss, and Jack can barely breathe, barely think. His mind is buzzing with relief and joy and _mine, mine, mine_ , and he needs Mark to know, he needs to say it.

"I love you too, Mark. So fuckin much."

Jack feels a tear fall on his cheek, and they’re so close he doesn’t know whether it’s Mark’s or his own. He pulls away to search Mark’s face, meets wide brown eyes and kiss-bitten lips still parted in shock.

And then Mark smiles. He smiles and the flames roar back to life, coursing through Jack’s veins and wrapping him up in scorching heat and blinding light, so bright and beautiful and genuine that it punches the air right out of his lungs. Jack grins, and he has so much more he wants to say but then Mark is holding him, warm arms wrapping him up in a tight hug, and Jack can feel him shake with laughter and tears.

They stay like that for a long time, giving their hearts time to recover as they hold each other with wide smiles and endless kisses. Mark wraps Jack up in his arms, and for the first time ever, they stay like that all night long. Jack dreams of log cabins and flames from secret fireplaces, he dreams of chocolate eyes and sweet kisses and safety. He dreams of Mark, and of fire, and the cold is nowhere to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sad and weepy and lonely ok let me have this


End file.
